


Puca Bregu

by Audlie45



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur is pissed, Attempted Seduction, Canon Era, I'm a terrible person for putting Mordred through so much shit, I'm literally making shit up as I go, M/M, Merlin is clueless, Merlin's Magic Revealed, Minor Character Death, Mordred is bad but with a conscience, Morgana is evil, Possible one-sided slow burn, The author knows little, Wiki knowledge of goblins, soul swapping, the knights are confused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audlie45/pseuds/Audlie45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana learns a spell to ruin Uther using Arthur and Mordred. Mordred feels bad until he doesn't, Merlin gets confused a lot and Arthur happens to be pretty pissed about his predicament.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! So I guess this is my first attempt at a chaptered fic for Merlin. There may or may not be smut in this... I'm considering it but it's a dismal hope. Rating is primarily for desciptions of some gore-ish things and mentions of past rape for Mordred. Feedback is welcome! I'm smol so be gentle but pleeeeease tell me if I need to fix things!

“Prat.” Merlin rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath as he made his way back to the kitchens with dirty dishes.

Arthur had thrown his goblet no less than three times at dinner in a fit of bratty petulance when he decided that the meal brought to him must have had pieces missing, despite not having seen what was on the platter to begin with. Of course, Arthur wasn’t going to blame Merlin outright but he was damn well going to take his frustration out on him.

After handing the dishes over, Merlin made his way through the castle to his chambers. A few moments later, he suddenly made a decidedly different turn toward the stables. Always keeping a watchful eye for guards, Merlin managed to make his way down undetected. There, sitting in the hay was a young man Merlin had just met a few days earlier while herb-picking, Feran.

Merlin pulled out a quarter loaf of bread, an apple and some bits of meat from a cloth. “Here, for you. We don’t have long but I can get you out later tonight, when the guards are switching duty. Are you up for that?”

Feran nodded excitedly, he was no more than three years Merlin’s senior but the large smile he wore in gratitude gave him an almost boyish appearance. “Thank you. Thank you so much for this. I am in your debt, Emrys.” He said with reverence in his voice.

“Nonsense.” Merlin smiled deprecatingly. “I just don’t want another innocent life to be taken.” His smile fell when Feran turned away and stared absently at a particularly interesting smattering of hay. “The prince will change things, I promise you that. When he is king… There will be no more innocents slaughtered.”

Feran thanked him for him for his help and reassurance before Merlin left to prepare.

Later that night, Merlin led Feran out of the castle with rations and a map to lead him farther out of Camelot.

* * *

“Lady Morgana.” Mordred bowed slowly. His tunic gapped open, showing how thin he’d grown since they last met. Dark bruises wrapped around his arms and neck, some purple and fresh, others greenish yellow and fading.

“Mordred,” Morgana purred. “my baby, my darling boy. I’m so glad you came to me.” She pushed a loose lock of his unwashed, dirty hair behind his ear and crooked her finger to raise his chin. “You are still my darling boy, aren’t you?” Her voice was smooth and low. The hint of a threat just below the surface.

“O-Of course, my lady.” He avoided eye contact and shivered slightly despite the balmy air. She’d been helpful in the castle when they first met, but after he left, all the rumours surrounding her and her deeds scared him. She was someone to be feared by kings, how could he not be intimidated?

“Oh darling, it’s just Morgana to you. Always Morgana.” She pulled him in close to her bosom. He wrapped his arms around her, more so to warm his thin frame than affection but she didn’t care. She knew she had him just where she wanted.

Mordred relaxed against her eventually and nuzzled her neck. “They... They left me.” He sobbed. Morgana rubbed his back soothingly. Her face was flat and uncaring but she allowed her body language to lie for her. “I had nowhere to go... and then...”

“I know, darling. Those bandits got what they deserved.” She pulled him back to look him in the eye. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“How…” Mordred stared back at Morgana, confused. “How do you know what happened to them?”

“Because I orchestrated the attack. As soon as I saw what they were doing to you I couldn’t bear to let them live any longer. Oh Mordred, my dear baby,” Morgana said tenderly before her voice grew deadly, “they deserved that and worse. I made sure their souls will wander this earth for all eternity. They will not rest for what they did to you.”

Mordred’s pinched brows relaxed and he smiled. “My la-Morgana, thank you. I-” tears welled in his eyes and his face crumbled. Morgana allowed herself a tender, piteous expression.

She’d been watching Mordred for the last two years. The druids had abandoned him when his practices began to frighten them. They would never approve of his darker work, but Morgana would welcome it with open arms. Unfortunately, before she could swoop in, he managed to get captured by a group of bandits. Amateurish of him to get caught, really, but she couldn’t blame him. He had no previous experience with bandits like that. Bandits with cold iron cuffs. Bandits with a penchant for roughing up young boys in the most indecent of ways. Of course, she could have taken them on all at once but she knew Mordred would only escape after. She needed him to need her. She needed him desperate and broken. So she waited.

One year passed with him in their… care before she finally decided that he was ready.

She’d sent off a beggar to intercept the bandits on their trail, a young lithe little thing that would gain their attention, and while they were distracted, she destroyed them all from afar. Little Mordred was inside their carriage, along with their other possessions, unknowing of the massacre. When he emerged, the young beggar approached him with directions to meet up with Morgana in the forests of Camelot. He had allowed himself a short, horrified glance before running, cuffs still in place.

She knew he’d come. Before, he had no choice, no family, no obligations than to just live, but this, the bandits merciless abuse, would drive him. She just needed to twist a few things in her favor and he’d be clay in her hands.

“Don’t cry, my dear, I’m here for you.” She waited patiently as he sobbed into her chest. His frail body was wracking with relief, his fear of her all but forgotten. He was still so young and naive. Perfect for what she had planned.

“Now, how are you feeling knowing they can’t hurt anyone anymore?”

He sniffed and nuzzled the top of her chest, his body bowed to reach her. “Relieved. Grateful, even. I-I can’t express my gratitude for their deaths.” He held her tighter, not wanting to let go. He only regretted not having killed them himself, but it couldn’t be helped.

She held him for a silent moment. Only the sounds of the wind and the birds singing filled the space as the sun descended slowly. Morgana thought of the coming winter and all the promise it held. Mordred could only think of how nice it would be to just stay here in her comfort, unburdened.

* * *

“Meerliiiin!” Arthur stood in his chambers, leaning over his desk.

“Yes, sire!” Arthur jumped at the sudden appearance of his manservant. God, he’s too clumsy to be so quiet.

“I need you to get my riding gear and armor ready, we’re heading out on a manhunt in the morning.”

Merlin blanched. “A w-what? A manhunt?”

“Yes,” Arthur looked away, not exactly happy with the idea either. “Some guards on patrol spotted a man leaving the back entrance to the castle.” Arthur paused and turned to Merlin. “Father wants us to find him. He thinks… Maybe he was escaping for some reason. Possibly a magic user.”

“Oh, um, right. Of course.” He’d hoped his timing was good enough to not be seen by the guards but Feran must have wandered too close to the castle when leaving. Shit. “I’ll get your things then.”

“I’m going down to the stables to check on Elle. When I get back, my armor better be here.” Arthur sounded bothered and abrasive but Merlin knew he wasn’t happy about having to chase down a man who was probably long gone. But what the king says, goes.

Merlin nodded and went ahead of Arthur to get everything situated. He made it to the stables in record time, busied himself with making sure everything was in order and polished. He thought of Feran and hoped he made it far enough out that they wouldn’t find him. If they did, Merlin would either have to hide him somehow or watch as he got captured. He was definitely not looking forward to the morning.

* * *

Arthur had waited at the window until he saw Merlin heading to the armory before leaving for the stables. He knew Merlin had helped someone there but he didn’t know who. He hated to think that Merlin could have harbored a sorcerer. He didn’t allow the thought and convinced himself that it was probably a beggar or some common thief he may know personally. Merlin proved too loyal a friend to cause Arthur such unease.

He searched around the stables, not entirely sure what he was looking for. There were no tracks he could pin to any specific person, nothing overtly out of place. He sighed and leaned against an empty stall, exhausted as the sun grew closer to the horizon. He felt no glory in searching for a man to put to his death but he would. For his father. For the king.

* * *

“Why are we he-” Mordred stopped dead in his tracks, frozen behind Morgana as she continued on to the bandit’s carriage. The relief he’d felt knowing the bandits were dealt with disappeared at the sight before him. Their bodies lay in a line in front of them, their chests bloodied and empty.

“Oh, gods.”

Morgana picked a soaking sack up from the ground and tossed to him. He fumbled a bit before getting a grip and feeling it was soft and lumpy. “Burn them. It’s the only way to ensure they suffer for eternity. I thought you’d appreciate doing the honors.” She smirked and headed closer to the left over goods.

“A-Are these…” He felt the sticky sack. The sun was already low enough to mute even the deepest of colors but the bright crimson seeping through the sack and staining his fingers, was unmistakeable. He gagged and dropped it with a sickly thump. “I-*cough*-gods.”

“Burn their hearts and their souls will never rest. They’ll forever roam the earth seeking unattainable redemption.” She said matter of factly. With her back to him, she crouched over a pile of wares on the floor, rummaging through until she found what she was looking for.

“I can’t. It’s-it’s too much.” He wanted to throw up. To run away and forget the entire last year happened. He may have been reaching darker parts of his magic but this was too macabre for even him.

Morgana stood and held out a folded red linen. “They were men of Camelot. They bear the Pendragon crest.” She studied his face, hoping for the right reaction.

His eye’s furrowed. “What?! No, they were just bandits.”

"Really?" sneered Morgana. "And where do you think they got the cuffs? And what about this?" She pulled the cloth free and unfolded it. "Given out to Uther's little minions, this is Uther's unofficial permission to cut down anyone who dares to defy the king. No trials, no justice, just murder." She looked at his horrified expression. "Of course such power comes with perks... you know better than anyone what those are. These men are above justice.” She stepped closer, seemingly looming over him despite the height difference. “The knights are not the only force he commands... these men are unworthy of wearing those red capes, but they are much more dangerous."

“You mean-”

“Uther was responsible for these men. He allowed them to do what they did.” She watched and waited while Mordred absorbed the new information. “They were terrible men with power bestowed upon them by a terrible king. Mordred…” She stepped closer and cupped his face. “Will you fight with me? I have a plan and I need you.”

Mordred’s face pinched with confusion and anger. The prince had helped him escape a damning fate, but his father… His father, the king, was a bully and a tyrannical monster. He thought of all the people who must have suffered under Uther’s rule and knew his misfortunes were almost nothing compared to them.

He steeled himself stared back at Morgana. “Whatever you need, I will not hesitate to aid.”

She finally allowed herself a smirk. “Good. Now burn these vile monsters’ souls into the very soil of this earth so they may never leave.”

Without hesitation, Mordred burned the hearts with a quick _forbærne_. She tossed in the linen as an afterthought. He took in the acrid smell of burning flesh and blood with a faltering, cold heart. He felt like a small child walking into a leech-filled lake, unaware of the dangers ahead.

The red linen burned as plain burlap sack in their wake.

Morgana led him to a small cottage hidden by dense trees and overgrowth. The sun was setting on their way and had set by the time they entered.

The cottage had obviously been lived in, most likely by her but he couldn’t be sure for how long. The faint sound of little scratches came from a far corner caught his attention. Probably rats.

Despite the dilapidated appearance, the inside was surprisingly warm and well kept. She settled down into an old stool and waited for him to sit.

“I need you to _be_ Prince Arthur.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo things are happening. The next chapter will take more time than this one, just so y'all know. Feedback is seriously encouraged!

Mordred sat across Morgana. The sun had set before they entered the cottage and the small candles surrounding them cast a flickering golden glow across every surface. Morgana’s sharp angular features accentuated, giving her a dramatically intimidating advantage.

“ _Be_ the prince?”

Morgana leaned forward with a satisfied smirk. “I travelled east for a time and discovered a powerful spell. One only usable by the strongest of warlocks and witches.” She boasted. “It allows the souls of three beings to transfer to each other. I just need a personal affect of each of them to cast it.” She peered up at him through thick black lashes lined in emerald.

“Three?” Mordred’s eyebrows furrowed.

She shifted in her seat and waved her hand absently while she talked. “I plan to send you into Arthur’s body, while he is sent to the little goblin whelp I captured in the east.” She tilted her head towards a dark corner of the cottage. “Of course, your body would be taken by the whelp but-” she looked away innocently, “I’m sure you’d be willing to sacrifice it for a few days, for the good of the kingdom. Would you not?”

Mordred stared back incredulously. The idea seemed farfetched and impossible. He’d never heard of such a spell and bodily possession was always known to be forbidden if it was ever even castable. This called for three transferences, how would that even work? And did she just say goblin? Suddenly, the continued rat scratches from the corner of the room seemed less like a hungry rat and more like long thin nails scraping menacingly against metal.

He wanted to run a hand through his hair but he stopped himself from the weight of the cuffs still around his wrists. “My-” Morgana’s eyes narrowed slightly behind her mask of innocence. “Morgana. I-I don’t understand. You want me to _be_ Arthur?” 

“Yes, I need you to infiltrate the castle like no other can. You will be the prince for a few days, kill the king, be crowned and lift the ban on magic to allow us all to live freely. Isn’t that what you want?” She sat back, crossing her legs. Of course she had other plans after the king was dead. Allowing Mordred to become king would only be a mild setback before she made her move for the crown.

“Of course that’s what I want but-... How can you be sure it will work? What if the-... that thing harms my body? Can you not just put Arthur in my body? How can I be sure of my own safety?!” Mordred almost yelled. He wanted to scream. How could she ask him to leave his own body to a goblin of all creatures. He’d only heard stories of one and what had been said was terrible. They ate gold for god’s sake.

“Mordred, I understand your concerns but trust me. The spell requires three people to work properly. Besides, I have the whelp contained and your body will be kept from harm I assure you. Do you honestly think I’d let you be hurt by that vile creature?” She feigned hurt and looked away as if the very idea of him doubting her was painful. This is why she needed Mordred to need her. If he’d been himself he would have seen through her ruse from the start maybe even from just the letter. He was a smart boy, she’d not deny him that, but after what he’d been through she knew he needed someone to trust him and to have trust in. She was the perfect figure for it. As cast aside as he was, with more experience and magical ability. She was the only person who could understand him.

The only person with the ability to use him.

Mordred shook his head knowing he had no other choice but to help. This could be his only chance to have revenge for, not only his father, but the entire magical community. All the families lost to Uther’s deeds.

Only when he agreed did she remove the iron cuffs.

* * *

Merlin’s small room was lit by the single window in the wall allowing moonlight to drench his bed. It was humid from the coming rain and he lay half covered by his linen blanket, wide awake. He thought of Arthur and the look he gave before dismissing him, Faren’s hopeful smile and hug before he ran off into the woods and Uther’s orders. A manhunt. Hah. Faren would be half-way to Essiter by now, where he’d originally come. He knew King Cenred wasn’t the nicest of kings but he at least allowed his subject the magic they wielded.

He fell into a fitful rest despite his efforts to ensure he stay alert for the morning’s hunt.

* * *

Arthur startled awake at the sound of an owl in a nearby tree and the taps of the beginnings of rain. He’d fallen asleep in the stables, exhausted from his day duties and stressing about the next morning. He’d be weary by then, he could already feel it. The moonlight coated the stables in a white and gray glow making him feel like he was in a dream. That tomorrow he wouldn’t have to hunt down a man for only being on his father’s land and looking suspicious. He thought of his future and the kingdom he silently swore to himself he’d build, without prejudice and hatred, a kingdom of peace and acceptance.

* * *

“Enter.” Morgana held open the metal door to the cage in the back of the cottage. Mordred recognized it as a cage that Uther’s men used to gather magic users in for mass burnings. He’d only been shown drawn images but the construction was too similar to be mistaken.

He shuddered and ducked before entering.

“Now, I just need something of yours.” Morgana peered at him with a smirk through the thin gaps of the cage while she set the lock and leaned close. She crooked a finger through an opening and he moved closer with caution. A dagger came close to his face and a lock of his hair was nicked off before he even knew she’d touched him.

He breathed heavily, still leaning against the cold metal cage. “M-Morgana…”

They’d already gone over the plan. There were sympathizers Morgana had caddied up for help in the castle. Just lowly maids and servants but helpers none the less. They were set up around the castle waiting to be approached by the enchanted king to set the plan in motion but he couldn’t help the fear gripping at his chest.

“Shh shh.” She ran a knuckle against his cheek. “You don’t want to scare the whelp now do you?”

Mordred turned quickly and saw a red skinned creature and curled up in a small cage. It smelled faintly of sulfur and rancid soiled earth. Short but thin black claws scraped idly at the edge of a bar while huge intelligent eyes stared directly into Mordred’s soul. He shuddered at the intensity and looked away.

“Don’t worry. It can’t speak and the cage is cold iron. The most damage it could do would be from those vile needles it bares.” Morgana sneered at the creature and absently splayed a hand on her side. The creature huffed through its long sharp nose.

“Now, let’s get started, shall we?” Morgana smiled widely as she pulled a small rope tied sack from her waist. A coiled lock of flaxen hair and a thick black wedge of flesh were set on the table next to the just knotted lock of Mordred’s hair. The creature growled and Mordred realized why it couldn’t speak. He had to fight the urge to vomit for the second time in just a few hours.

Morgana turned around and placed the ingredients into a small cauldron on her table and began chanting.

_“Áwende þé æt hine, ámang hé béon áwendede æt sum púcel”_

She continued and retrieved a small bottle of orange liquid slowly pouring it into the cauldron. Mordred stared in awe as the contents bloomed a thick yellow smoke. The creature rocked it’s cage wildly, only succeeding in knocking itself over. It grew silent when the smoke started tinting green then blue then a deep dark purple. The smoke snaked it’s way towards him, the goblin and the opposing far wall towards the castle.

* * *

The stables were filled with the low hoot of an owl, the rain dying down and the tiny scratches of small rodents skittering about. Arthur’s thoughts filled his head keeping him from his bed. He needed the discomfort of the hay and the strong pungent odor of the horses to keep himself grounded. He couldn’t think of the poor man that was running for his life or that he could only be a criminal in his father’s eyes not in the eyes of moral laws.

Torn between loyalty and duty Arthur sat unaware of the black as night smoke that bloomed it’s way towards him. And when it finally reached his nostrils it was too late to run.

* * *

“Nooooooooooooo!” Arthur stopped running. When did he start running? Was that Morgana? He turned to see that he was no longer in the stable but in the forest just outside of an old cottage. Morgana stood in the doorway, eyes flaring gold and angry. A terrified scream ripped from inside the cottage and Morgana looked torn. Before she could decide which was more important, he ran.

His body felt different. Smaller but faster. He was running at a speed he’d only experienced on horseback but it felt perfectly natural. With no idea where he was headed, Arthur just ran, knowing he had to get away.

After completely exhausting himself, he collapsed to the ground. Leaves muted and damp under his body but barely a thud was made. He finally stopped to feel himself. Claws ran over rough skin. No fat to be found along his bones. A surge of something tangible rushed under his skin and then he realized everything seemed larger around him before everything went black.

* * *

_CLANK_

Morgana screamed angrily into the budding dawn and shut the cage door. Mordred’s body sat in the corner of the cage glaring angrily at her, eyes flaring and halting when the cage’s iron served it’s purpose.

“You little bastard! Do you see what you’ve done! He’s escaped!!” She shrieked. Her chest heaved as she replaced the lock. “You won’t be escaping, I’ll make sure of that.” She spat. “I swear to the goddesses when I get your body those hands will be burned while you watch!”

She stalked across the cottage and grabbed the three abandoned fire pokers against the wall. Using her magic, she bent them to an arc and came up behind Mordred’s body. “Stand up you worthless, skeeving little whelp.” Mordred’s body skittered as best it could to the opposite end of the cage. She smirked and pulled a gold coin from her pocket. He perked up and moved forward, blinded by his instinctual hunger. Before he realized his body could do nothing with the coin, she’d already yanked him by his arm and pressed his body against the cage. “You will sit tight until this is over and I will enjoy taking your little body apart bit-by-bit when you’re back in it.” She shifted him down to his knees and used the pokers to trap each thigh to the cage. The last poker she slipped around his neck effectively securing him to the cage wall. “I’m sure Mordred will forgive me for the mess you’re bound to make. It is for the sake of the kingdom and our people after all.”

* * *

Merlin entered Arthur’s chambers groggily. He’d slept like hell and was definitely not ready for the day’s hunt.

Pulling the curtains open, Merlin felt the distinct lack of the need to say anything because it definitely wasn’t a ‘good morning’ nor was he in the mood for Arthur ‘rising and shining’ when that usually involved the nearest bedside item to be throttled at him. Fortunately and, well, most unfortunately, Arthur wasn’t in bed. His sheets were a mess, like always, but with a distinct lack of a certain haughty prince.

Merlin sighed and shook his head. He knew when Arthur needed to think he’d stay up all night brooding in the stables with his favorite horse Elle. Apparently, the impending manhunt had him in a state.

 _A cold breakfast for the prince it is._ Merlin was in the hall on his way to the stables when Arthur came barreling into him still in his night clothes and covered in hay.

“Em-Merlin!” Arthur gaped at Merlin very much resembling a fish.

“You know, Arthur, it would be nice to have you _in_ your rooms when I go to wake you. Your breakfast is getting cold and we have to head out within the hour.” Fully expecting a reprimand or, in the very least, a glare and an insult.

“Um, right. Yes, I’ll go get ready. Where is it we’re going again?” 

“The forest… To find the suspicious person... the guards spotted…” Merlin said slowly. First of all, Arthur agreeing to do anything Merlin asked this early in the morning was something he’d never expected and never experienced. Second of all, Arthur was normally a very grumpy morning person but the hay coated prince standing before him seemed alert and even eager. What the hell?

“Right! Of course, I, um, was just in the stables making sure everything was in order. I’ll, uh, meet you there in half an hour.” And Arthur was gone, running quite quickly past Merlin.

Merlin stared after Arthur, confused slightly. He furrowed his brow and chopped it up to nerves. He didn’t have time to worry about Arthur’s sudden burst of early morning energy when he had a manhunt to prepare for.

* * *

_‘Fuck. Fucking fuck fuck!’_ Mordred thought while atop Elle, who was seriously not having this ride today.

Before he could find out what was going on he’d managed to get himself lost in five different rooms before finding the prince’s chambers and then was chastised by Emrys for attempting to put his own clothes on. Just to make matters worse, it seems that Arthur’s personal horse can tell the difference between Arthur in Arthur’s body and Mordred in Arthur’s body because once he’d convinced Emrys to remind him why they were going out, they mounted up and Elle decided that rump first was the best method of travel. He could not get her to ride straight for the life of him and she seemed to think it was hilarious, as well as the other knights.

Frustrated beyond belief, Mordred rode out with the knights and Emrys in search of a possible criminal that had been spotted the previous day. Of course, it had to be a possible magic user as well. Sadly, Mordred’s magic didn’t transfer with his soul so there wasn’t much he’d be able to do to help if the poor man was caught but he swore to himself he’d find a way to keep him safe.

They combed through a generous radius of the castle slowly, due to the wet ground, but spotted nothing. He didn’t know how long they should be out but Leon, the curly headed knight, suggested a rest before either heading back to the castle or continuing the search and he agreed.

Doing his best to seem pompous and arrogant, he spoke loudly, demanded much and yelled at Emrys multiple times even though he felt terrible about it.

“Where do you think you’re going, _Mer_ lin?” He said in the most antagonizing voice he could muster and, honestly, it wasn’t hard in this new voice.

“I need to go pee, sire… Is there a problem with that?”

Mordred was having a hard time figuring out how to react to Emrys’ snarky attitude. As a prince, he figured Arthur would have had him in the stocks practically everyday with the way Emrys spoke to him on an hourly basis. “Of course not. Hurry back.” He snapped. Only by answering just as snarkily was he guaranteed not to get a suspicious look.

‘I can do this’ he resolved.

* * *

There was something definitely up with Arthur. All morning he’d been fumbling about almost confused but still as pratty as ever. Merlin could only hope it was guilt over the manhunt.

He made his way through the forest a bit to get out of sight to relieve himself when he smelled the pungent odor of sulfur. It was an unusual scent for anywhere in Camelot. He searched around the area and followed the smell.

A small red creature lay curled up in the damp leaves, fast asleep. It looked small and defenseless but also gnarled and just a bit scary.

Merlin stepped closer and closer, using his magic to mute the sound of his feet over the crackling leaves. He leaned over the creature to get a look at it’s face and realized instantly what it was. The ears, the skin, the face, the smell. The color was different but he would never forget Gaius’ possession by a goblin.

**Author's Note:**

> Please! Comments help me so much and I would be ever grateful for constructive criticism!
> 
> The fic name means "Goblin Prince" btw.


End file.
